


Rescue Serendipity

by snowdarkred



Series: The Crossover Drabbles [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Execution, Gen, Rescue, bamf!amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdarkred/pseuds/snowdarkred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy MacMannus has a Russian mobster pointing a gun at his head. And then things get weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains blood, violence, and swearing.
> 
> I put together a list of character across several fandoms and then generated random groupings among them. These drabbles are the result.

Murphy stared up as the mob boss held a gun to his head. This was it. He was going to die. He grinned, showing his blood-stained teeth.

“Well?” he sneered when the Russian hesitated. “Are you just gonna pussy around or are ya going to put a bullet in my head like ya promised?” The Russian growled and pressed the gun’s barrel against his skull, but still he hesitated, glancing uneasily at one of the room’s two doorways. Murphy was beginning to wonder what the hold up was.

There was a loud bang outside, and then another. Suddenly, one of the doors burst open and a smoking hot redheaded girl in shorts and sneakers strode in, a gun in each hand. She aimed smoothly at the Russian.

“Where’s my husband?” she demanded. Murphy recognized her accent as Scottish. What was a Scottish girl doing in South Boston waving guns around?

“I said,” the redhead repeated lowly, stepping forward. Her sneakers squelched in the blood and piss on the floor, but she didn’t seem to care. Husband or not, Murphy felt like he was falling in love. Fuck, why were the crazy hot ones always taken? “Where. Is. My. Husband?”

“Look, bitch,” the Russian said. His gun was shaking. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

The redhead fired. The Russian mobster screamed as his hand exploded with blood and bone-fragments. Murphy took his chance and lashed out, tipping his chair over but catching the Russian in the knee with one of his steel-toed boots. The man fell with a pained grunt and a sob.

Hot Redhead just walked forward with that same eerie calm, her guns never wavering.

“You know exactly who I am, you slimy bastard,” she said. “Tell me where my husband is and maybe I won’t kill you.”

The Russian’s eyes flicked to the unopened door on the other side of the room, which was all the answer she needed. She shot him in the head, execution style. Quickly, she turned to Murphy and examined him. Her eyes were ageless, the eyes of someone who had seen more than their fair share of violence and betrayal and loss.

“This must be some husband o’ yours,” Murphy said to fill the silence of the Russian’s death. “I’m Murphy MacMannus.”

“Amy Pond,” she said. She holstered one of her guns and pulled an odd sort of device. She walked behind him; there was a strange buzzing sound, and then suddenly, he was free. He scrambled to his feet gracelessly.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Amy nodded and turned towards the other door. Murphy took the Russian’s gun from where it had fallen and checked the clip. Nine rounds left. He nodded back at Amy.

Together they faced the doorway and prepared themselves.


End file.
